To Be Accepted
by Turgon Do'Urden
Summary: A story about Drizzt before he arrived at Icewind Dale and after his ranger training. Rating for futureaction. My first Fic so be nice. Review please! Chapter 2 should be up soon
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own none of the places or people in this story. I simply borrowed them for a few hours to relieve the boredom...  
  
A lone figure sat in the center of the clearing, staring at the stars. The light from a small fire nearby flickered on his ebony skin. A mane of thick white hair fell just below his shoulders. Delicately pointed ears poked out from his hair, a feature clearly marking him as an elf, that long-lived, beautiful, and sometimes arrogant race. But this was no ordinary elf. He was a drow, a member of the subterranean, evil race of elves who were, long ago, banished from the surface by their fair skinned cousins for their evil deeds before and during the great Crown wars that shook the very foundations of Toril so long ago.  
  
Drow on the surface were rare, and a single dark elf was unheard of. The only time the Drow came to the surface was to raid villages of elves and humans. But even then the evil elves came with a large number of their dark kin.  
  
But this was no ordinary drow. He was Drizzt Do'Urden, a renegade drow from the eighth house of Menzoberranzan, and the finest fighter that vile city had ever seen. He had left the city because, unlike every other drow save one, he was born with a sense of good and evil, morality and honor. He was horrified by the acts of evil the drow committed against each other. They ruthlessly slaughtered their "friends" and family for even the slightest gain in power.  
  
The only thing that made his life in that city remotely bearable was that one other drow with a code identical to that of Drizzt Do'Urden. That drow was Zaknafein Do'Urden, Drizzt's father and mentor. The endless sparring lessons in the Do'Urden gym had been the most enjoyable part of life for the young Do'Urden prince. Then the young dark elf had been sent to the academy, the epitome of the drow ideals. Drizzt had survived the drow academy with his morals intact, something Zaknafein had thought impossible.  
  
But then the impossible happened. Drizzt's mother, Matron Malice, had sacrificed Zaknafein. And for Drizzt's mistakes. Drizzt had then fled from Menzoberranzan, into the wild and untamable Underdark. Ten years and many adventures later, Drizzt had arrived at the surface. He had then been taught the art of being a ranger, his true calling, by, of all people, a blind old human named Montolio deBrouchee. Now, after so many adventures in his relatively short life, Drizzt Do'Urden was looking for a home.  
  
Not just a place here he could survive. With his skills, Drizzt could survive anywhere on or below the surface of Toril. But for a place where he could live among others, a place where he would be accepted despite his skin color. So he was moving north, a haven for goblinkind and rogues from every race, hoping to find a small village that would accept him, if only for his skill with the twin scimitars that hung from his belt.  
  
He was now sitting in a small, grassy clearing in a forest overlooking a valley with a small village in it. Well, actually it was a small cluster of houses that could not rightly be called a village.  
  
A sudden sound from the woods off to his right brought him out of his reverie. He quickly kicked dirt over his small fire, grabbed his pack and dashed for nearest tree. With grace that a hunting cat would envy, he swung himself up to the highest branches about twenty feet from the ground. He watched and listened for a few moments, wondering how he could have been caught unaware so easily, when a band of orcs emerged from the woods where he had heard the sound.  
  
The hairy humanoids immediately started making camp where he had been sitting a minute before. The drow guessed that there was about forty of the smelly creatures. After an hour of sitting in his tree, Drizzt was starting to think that he should just go down and attack the beasts. He started to think of a plan when, from the opposite side of the clearing came another band of orcs. This one was larger than the first and the orcs of the second tribe carried crafted weapons.  
  
The largest orc of the first tribe, a monstrous humanoid, nearly 6 feet tall with twisted teeth came forward with a large battleaxe in one hand, a bronze buckler on the other. It growled several curses at the other tribe of orcs and, slamming a gnarled fist to its chest, declared itself the chieftain of the mighty TwistTooth tribe and demanding to talk to the chief of the second tribe.  
  
A second passed before the swarm of orcs before TwistTooth parted, making a path for its own chieftain. The second chief was so large its shadow overwhelmed TwistTooth. Well over 6 and a-half feet, the orc chief pounded its chest and shouted "Tallfist!" so loud that it echoed in the valley beyond. The Tallfist tribe immediately began chanting the name of its mighty chief.  
  
With typical orcish loyalty, nearly a score of the TwistTooth orcs began chanting Tallfist as they moved to the side of the massive orc. TwistTooth roared and moved to attack the deserters, but Tallfist stepped in his way. With a growl, TwistTooth swung his axe hard at Tallfist. The larger orc merely grabbed the wooden shaft of the axe and, with a grunt, snapped it in half. Then, with its other hand, it grabbed TwistTooth's buckler and sent it flying through the distant woods.  
  
The smaller orc blinked, trying to comprehend what just happened, then turned and ran breakneck towards the valley. Before he even got ten paces he fell, the head of his broken axe embedded so deeply in his back it poked out of his chest.  
  
Well Drizzt thought after watching the incident things just got a lot more complicated 


	2. Chapter 2

Drizzt awoke the next morning, still in his tree. He quickly glanced around, but found that most of the orcs had left. Only a half a dozen orcs were left in the clearing, and they were picking over the remains of the camp, which included three dead orcs and a cooked deer. Two other sentries were below his tree, arguing about something in orcish.  
  
Drizzt quickly drew his scimitars, deciding what to do before he had time to reconsider it. He flipped his left scimitar around so that it was point down, then jumped lightly from the tree. He landed softly on the shoulders of the smaller sentry. Both of the orcs stopped immediately, and gaped at the dark elf that had suddenly appeared.  
  
Drizzt quickly drove his left scimitar down into the smaller orc's collarbone, on an angle so that it pierced across his chest. Without missing a beat, he withdrew it and somersaulted over the second orc before the first could fall. Both scimitars entered the second orc's spine; one at the base of his neck and one lower so it pierced a lung. With a gurgle, the second orc fell on top of his already dead companion.  
  
Drizzt disappeared into the trees and began to circle around the orcs still in the clearing.  
  
One of the orcs, a deserter from the TwistTooth tribe, looked around and noticed the dead sentries, laying on each other in a pool of mixing blood. He gave a cry, and then ran to the other side of the woods. The others just stared at him, not having seen the bodies. Just as he entered the woods, a ball of blackness blotted him out from view. There came a horrible scream, and then the terrified orc's head came sailing from the globe of darkness to land at the feet of the nearest humanoids. The orcs just stared.  
  
Drizzt climbed to the top of another tree, and waited for the stupid orcs to respond somehow to the severed head. They all still stared. Then, finally, they moved, but no in the way Drizzt had hoped. The orcs drew their weapons and formed a tight circle formation.  
  
Damn Drizzt thought Time to improvise  
  
He summoned another globe of darkness right in the center of the orcs' formation. Before the globe had even completed, he leapt from the tree, landing with a shoulder roll and scimitars at the ready. But the orcs didn't come out. With grudging respect, the drow rose and positioned himself in front of the globe. He released the globe, coming face to face with an orc with a pike. The startled orc hesitated. It cost it its life. The pike fell to the ground as Drizzt withdrew his scimitar. The remaining four orcs moved to surround him.  
  
Drizzt turned to face the orc to his right, but a dagger that grazed his cheek changed his mind. He spun around, locating the orc who was already preparing to throw another dagger. He charged at the orc, swatting away the clumsy dagger that came his way. The dark elf then threw his right weapon at the orc, embedding one scimitar deep in his head. Drizzt ran over the fallen orc as he passed, retrieving his weapon. He put both weapons at the ready as the remaining three orcs watched, stunned. Then they charged, swinging their weapons with abandon. Gone was their training, now they only had savageness in mind, all they wanted was to kill this dark elf that had so decimated their ranks.  
  
Drizzt ran forward, slipping under the guard of the center orc, the slipping a blade into his ribs. But that cost him. The orc to his right barreled into him hard, knocking him towards the other remaining orc. The second orc carried a small hammer, pillaged from a dead dwarf. With a mighty whack, he slammed Drizzt's chest, breaking a rib or two. The drow was knocked back to the other side of the clearing, lying on his back and gasping hard. Both orcs snickered and advanced slowly on the wounded drow.  
  
Drizzt, as quickly as the pain would allow, slipped his hand into a pouch and removed an onyx figurine of a panther. Quietly, he called Guenhwyvar. The orcs exchanged glances as a black mist appeared around the drow. Then a huge panther appeared. Guenhwyvar leapt on one of the orcs, kicking and biting and roaring. That was all the hammer-wielding orc could take. He dashed through the trees, screaming. After the first orc had stopped kicking, Guenhwyvar bounded off after the other orc. She emerged a short while later and dropped the hammer at Drizzt's side. He slowly sat up and started dressing his wounds.  
  
This is going to be a little harder than I thought Drizzt thought with a painful sigh 


End file.
